Loyalties
by Lucy Hale
Summary: Part one of the Loyalties Series. Spoiler warning for season one all through this series. Pre-slash.


One thing I always wondered about working for some top-secret government agency…

Okay, I never wondered about working for some top-secret government agency. But now that I _am_ working for a top-secret government agency, I do wonder about it. And one of the things I wonder about is how much it's going to affect my life. 

I mean, is this gonna be a whole X-Files thing? Are people gonna be calling my house and giving me obscure tips on crimes being committed, or space ships and conspiracies? Or will it be a Men in Black thing, where they strip my identity and no one ever knows I'm even alive? 

When I get on those trains of thought, I usually just tell myself to lay off the TV. 

Still, one thing I like about this Agency, one of the only things, is that so far it hasn't taken over my life as much as I was fearing. I can leave the paranoia and conspiracies to Hobbes, and my Keeper can live without an identity if she wants. Me, I want to stay a normal guy.

As much as that's possible, anyway, considering I have a gland in my head that makes me go mentally psychotic after bouts of invisibility. 

But enough about me.

*****************

Darien Fawkes couldn't hide his amusement. The chance to bug his 'partner' about anything was always too good to resist, and he needed something to get his mind off of lonely little girls and the key he still wore around his neck. "So tell me something, Mulder. How many of those government agency pink slips did that old friend of yours say you had stashed in your closet?"

"Shut up, Fawkes." Bob Hobbes didn't even look at him as he drove the van back towards the Agency labs. 

"So we know you were a Fed. Looks like the Feebs don't remember you with much kindness. Should I be warned in case I run into other agencies? So I don't open my mouth and tell them I'm working with you, Lithium Bob?"

Hobbes' eyes swung over to him, and the glare on his face would have been intimidating if it wasn't the look he had fixed on his face twenty-three hours of the day. "Don't call me that."

Darien smirked out the window. Tough choices; Lithium Bob or Mulder the paranoid Fed? Both were equally liable to get on Hobbes' nerves. 

"Stop even thinking about it, and get that asshole smirk off your face."

"Whoa. Someone's touchy today."

Hobbes turned back to the street, grumbling under his breath.

Darien's grin grew as he leaned back and watched the passing street. He still wasn't quite sure exactly how he felt about Hobbes. The guy was an asshole, but half the time people thought Darien was an asshole, so that wasn't really something he could fault his reluctant partner for. He was also a complete sheep. All gung-ho for his country and his government, showing a kind of loyalty Darien really couldn't understand. How could one man be so cynical about everything, and have this big idealistic blind spot towards his own government?

Still, the guy was his partner, like it or not, and they were going to have to develop some amount of trust in each other. It would be a lot easier if Hobbes would learn to get off his high horse.

"So…uh. You got any idea what this is gonna be about?"

"Nope." Hobbes kept his eyes on the road. 

"Aren't we allowed some kind of break between assignments?"

"Nope."

"Great." Darien gave up trying to have a conversation. Hobbes was almost impossible to deal with in any state; in a bad mood, he was completely impossible. 

Still, the guy wasn't the slightest put off that the day after uncovering a sniper assassin and saving a little girl, they were being called back to talk to…to their boss. Whoever the hell he was. Darien Had started thinking of him as The Man in the Suit, or The Man Behind the Desk, but that seemed a little too X-Files, and his life had too many X-Files references in it already. Hell, he could be an X-File himself.

God, he had to lay off the TV. 

*****************

"Gentleman, we have a situation."

Darien couldn't help a grin. "'Houston, we have a problem.' Very dramatic, chief."

The Boss barely glanced over in response. "It seems your boy Anders may not have been working alone."

Darien and Hobbes exchanged glances. Anders was their sniper, the FBI agent and former Black Beret turned renegade to get some revenge on a visiting diplomat from Turkmenistan. 

"We didn't see anything that said he had an accomplice." Hobbes spoke for both of them. 

"Maybe not, but he has friends. And thanks to Fawkes here disappearing and appearing right in front of him, there's word out about our secret weapon. The invisible man." The Boss smiled without humor. "One of our guys has contacts. There are a couple of high-profile snipers-for-hire showing up in town. You mind telling me why you decided to show off your unique skills in front of a man that you were about to arrest, Fawkes?"

"Uh, I can't really remember much about that, sir. Last thing I remember is Anders shooting at us. I woke up in that lovely padded cell I like to call home. That's all I know."

The Boss shifted his gaze to Hobbes.

The agent shrugged. "I found him running through the woods. I think he was about to start shredding the bark off a tree with his bare hands. I had to tranquilize him."

Darien's eyebrows flew up and he turned to Hobbes, who ignored him. 

"So you ignored the advice from your Keeper and went Quicksilver." The Boss frowned at Darien, but surprisingly didn't look angry. "Luckily most people are dismissing the rumors of our invisible man as a joke, but there are some big players in town today, and they'll be after you, son."

"Anyone we should be on the lookout for, sir?"

"For the next few days, be on the lookout for everybody. In particular, there are a couple of names here you may recognize, Hobbes." The Boss consulted a paper in front of him. "We've got another former Black Beret spotted at the airport. Jack Todd. He never worked with Anders as far as we can see, but they probably ran in the same circles." He pushed a small black and white photo across the desk. 

Hobbes grabbed it and studied it carefully. "I've heard of him." He handed the picture to Darien.

The younger man took it and blinked down at the picture. Some old military picture of a hard-faced guy grimacing into the camera. 

A minute later, the conversation seeped through his brain. "Wait a minute. Wait, wait, wait. You're saying this guy in is town to kill me?"

"Probably." The Boss, as usual, looked remarkably unconcerned.

Darien gawked at the picture again. "Holy shit. So what do I do? You're gonna take care of this, right? I mean, I'm like an important investment for you people. You're handling this."

"Yes, well. Unfortunately we're a little undermanned right now. We're going to let you two handle this one."

"You're sending me out to find guys who are trying to kill me? Professional snipers? Is that what you're telling me?"

"You did it to yourself, sonny. Next time pay attention to who you reveal yourself to, and we won't have this problem." He smiled with a touch of genuine humor. "Your job is to save your own life. Maybe this is an assignment you can get gung ho about."

Darien shook his head. "Great. Just great."

"Now get lost, kid. Hobbes, a word?"

Darien kept the picture in his hands, almost forgetting he was holding it, as he turned and went out the door. 

Hobbes watched him until the door was shut, then turned dutifully back to his boss. "Yes, sir?"

"Look, I didn't want to swell the kid's head up, but he was right. He's an important investment. I want you to take care of this ASAP."

"No problem, sir." Hobbes nodded once confidently, and turned to go after his partner.

"Hobbes?"

He glanced back. "Sir?"

"You watch his back. If they figure out who he is, they'll come after him. We can't afford to lose him. Be on your guard." The Boss locked eyes with his operative.

Hobbes hesitated, then nodded again silently. He didn't have to hear the innuendo in the older man's voice to know what he was saying. "I hear you." He swallowed any other response, heading for the door.

Sure, he was expendable. If a shot came for Fawkes, he should take it. Big surprise there. This punk ex-thief and his magical gland were more important than an ex-Fed with a lithium habit and a nicely shady past.

He heaved a sigh as he left the office and headed down an empty corridor. Empty-looking, anyway. Who knew if Fawkes was hanging around watching him.

Made him wonder who thought it was a good idea to put a paranoid guy like him with a partner who was invisibility-capable.

********

Funny thing was, Hobbes was always convinced someone was waiting in the wings to jump him. Always. Until the Official and his government decided he should worry more about Darien Fawkes. Then, as ordered, he stopped worrying about himself and started worrying about his partner, tailing Fawkes home and keeping an eye out on him from the conspicuous but relative safe haven of the van.

He kept the binoculars moving, scanning the perimeter around the building where his partner lived. 

He liked his own place better. Less hiding places. None of those bushes around the front, or those trees going almost right up to the back parking lot. He had a security system; this place anyone could walk right into. 

His gaze tilted up to the windows he knew belonged to Darien, and he grimaced when he caught the silhouette moving behind the light curtains. "Yeah, that's real safe," he grumbled to himself in the quiet of the van. "Shine a big spotlight behind you and make yourself a target. Wonderful. That's what we get for hiring non-military. The guy doesn't understand the concept of 'snipers'."

He kept up his grumbled monologue as the shadow moved to another room, and started on a familiar-looking routine.

Hobbes almost laughed to himself. "Great. I finally get to peek on someone taking a shower, and it's this asshole. I wonder if he even remembered to lock his door. How'd this guy ever make it as a thief? Oh, yeah." He smirked to himself, remembering how the Agency had found him. "He didn't."

His radio crackled to life suddenly. "I didn't know you were a voyeur, Hobbes. You getting a woody out there watching?"

Hobbes smirked down at the radio. He hadn't forgotten Fawkes still had the headset he'd loaned him to go spy on his little girl friend.

He fit his mic up to his mouth. "Voyeur? I'm impressed. Two syllables and it doesn't even start with one of the easy letters."

"You know you're about as subtle as the Grand Canyon tailing me in that van you drive around in. They send you to babysit me?"

"Look, hotshot, right now you're the assignment, like it or not. I'm just doing my job here."

Darien laughed into his ear. "You're such a good little soldier."

"Yeah? I think watching your ass is one assignment I'm tempted to slack off on."

"You're not supposed to be watching my ass, ya peeping tom."

Hobbes actually laughed a little at that, surprising himself. "Go take your shower and don't flatter yourself."

"Oooh. You're wounding my fragile ego. I thought you were supposed to be protecting me."

"Yeah. And that's all. No one said I had to talk to you, too. So go away."

There was a pause. "Look, you can protect me just as well inside. Why don't you come up and get a cup of coffee or something? I don't believe you really enjoy sitting in that van for hours."

Hobbes blinked, surprised at the offer. Surprised even more that he was tempted to accept it. "Thanks, Fawkes, but we're dealing with snipers here. They won't be coming up to your door and knocking. I'm better for you out here. Besides, the van's more comfortable than you think."

"Oh, sure. High-tech spy gear, radio, binoculars, guns. All the comforts of home."

"You said it. Now why don't you stop giving away my position to anyone nearby with a radio and a curiosity for scanning frequencies, and play like I'm not here."

"All right, all right. Try to be a nice guy…" Darien disconnected.

Hobbes shook his head with a grin as he pulled the mic down past his chin. He'd keep the ears on, just in case. He'd told Darien these people probably wouldn't come right up to his door, but better safe than sorry, and there was a back entrance to this building that he couldn't monitor.

So he was sitting there, calmly and patiently staking the place out, waiting for someone to show up and try to take out his partner.

And that's when they got him.

***************

Darien debated with himself for all of three seconds before he grabbed the headset again and snapped it on. "Get your kicks, Mulder? I'm a little disappointed you didn't offer to come dry me off."

There was no answer.

He grinned. "Falling asleep at the helm, Hobbes? How incredibly irresponsible of you."

Again he was met with silence.

Darien's grin faded somewhat. Not that his life's ambition was to have conversations with his sullen partner, but it wasn't like Hobbes not to answer. He wouldn't have fallen asleep, Darien knew. In fact, Hobbes seemed more keyed up than normal when he was on the job, and he considered this a job. 

Maybe he was onto something and couldn't answer. Maybe he tracked down this sniper asshole.

He couldn't help going to the window and peeking out through dusty mini-blinds. The van was still there, mostly hidden behind some bushes, silent.

He grinned, figuring out how to get a rise out of his partner. He reached for the cord and yanked, raising the blinds and exposing himself to full view from the street.

He only waited a minute for the expected 'great, why don't you just paint a frigging bull's eye on your forehead' from the radio. When it didn't come, he became officially worried.

Something weird was going on, and he hoped it was nothing weirder than Hobbes slacking off and falling asleep.

He finished dressing fast, tugging the headset off and dropping it on his couch as he headed for the door. "Hobbes, this better not be some weird paranoiac joke." 

He left the building and headed straight for the van, knowing the lecture he was earning himself if Hobbes was really watching and just keeping his mouth shut. 

When he saw the back doors to the van hanging open, he knew this was no joke. Not even for a practical joke on his partner would Hobbes leave his precious vehicle exposed like that.

He hesitated before getting to the back, and looked around briefly to make sure no prying eyes were on him.

Then he shut his eyes, and thought the thought, and that small gland in his head responded to his silent order, sending a slivery pulse through his body.

One minute he was normal, the next, his vision was less clear, his body less there. He bit back that instant wave of vertigo as he looked down at himself and didn't see anything, and forced himself into action. 

He went straight to the opened doors of the van, peering inside.

Empty. It looked the same as it ever did, just without it's ever-present owner.

He climbed inside, looking around carefully.

The headset Hobbes would have still been wearing was on the floor of the van, near the radio. He passed it by and reached for the sliding window to the front seats. He was about to pull it open when a bit of filtered sunlight caught his eyes, and he lowered his gaze.

A small hole. A perfect, round hole sliced right through the metal. He was no expert, but he knew a bullet hole when one was staring him in the invisible face. 

Whatever had happened, everything was quiet now. 

He shut his eyes, something he had to remind himself to do. Difficult to remember when you could see through your eyelids. With a brief command to the gland, that familiar shiver went through him, and when he opened his eyes his sight was normal. He couldn't help a glance down at himself to check he was still all there, then he moved to the doors of the van and pulled them shut. 

He tried to lock them from the inside, but one glance revealed the scraped paint and dented metal between the two doors. Someone had pried them open, and broken the lock.

"Oh, crap." With a sinking feeling, he reached for the van's phone and dialed. When the low voice answered, he couldn't keep his gaze from going back to that small bullet hole in the front. "Houston, we really do have a problem here."

*************

"So what happens? Do we send out search parties or what? How many other guys do you have working for you? Can we find out who this was?"

The Boss seemed way too calm, if Darien was any judge. "We'll do what we can."

"Oh, that sounds promising." He couldn't keep the sharp note of sarcasm out of his voice. Not that he tried. "What happens now? Tell me."

"We're going to have to take another tactic to bring out Todd and any other men who may be after you." The Boss's voice was calm. "We'll have to put you somewhere public, somewhere that'll get their attention."

Darien blinked. "All right, I'm gonna pretend you didn't just suggest I'm going to let myself be used as human bait to bring out men who want to kill me, and I'm gonna ask again -- what are we gonna do about this?"

"I just told you--"

"Not Todd, you asshole. Hobbes."

The Boss's cool expression never changed. "You have my solemn oath that everything within our power, everything we can possibly do to get Agent Hobbes back safe, we're going to do. Don't worry, we'll have him out in no time." He flashed a cool smile. "Now, I'd like you to meet your new partner. This is Agent--"

"What?" Darien barely spared a glance to the younger man who had been standing by the Boss's desk since he burst in a few minutes ago. 

The Boss went on like he hadn't said anything. "This is Agent Krycek. He'll be taking the place of the unfortunate Agent Hobbes."

Darien turned incredulous eyes to the young man in the bad suit. "Agent Krycek?"

"Lawrence Krycek. He's new to our group, so do your best to make him feel--"

"Let me get this straight. My partner has vanished, and you're replacing him with a rookie Agent named Krycek."

"That's correct, Mr. Fawkes. Now why don't we talk about what--"

"It isn't just me," Darien said to himself, shaking his head. "My life really is an episode of the X-Files." A minute later his eyes snapped over to the Boss. "Hold on a minute. New partner? You don't have any intention of finding Hobbes, do you?"

"Mr. Fawkes, I'd suggest you worry about your own life right now."

"You son of a bitch. What the hell kind of operation is this? The guy's doing a job for you and he vanishes, and that's it? You're just gonna replace him with some kid in a bad suit who, if my TV knowledge is correct, probably turns out to have some connection to the guys we're after, and forget about Hobbes?"

Krycek flinched, shocked, and a minute later had a gun out of his holster and pointed straight at Darien. "You loud-mouthed son of a bitch. How did you find out?"

Darien gaped at him. "Find out?"

The young agent's gun swung from him to the Boss and back again. "I knew it would never work. I told them I should just kill you straight-out."

Darien turned an almost disgusted look at the Boss, who just shrugged calmly.

A moment later he dove for the floor, sending a mental signal to the gland. For the second time that day the Quicksilver crawled from his pores, covering him and sending him into his cold, invisible new skin. He rolled fast.

Krycek fired right at where he had fallen. 

Darien jumped to his feet, pissed and annoyed at the entire situation. He lunged for the agent, who, of course, never saw him coming. He knocked the kid to the ground and lunged for his gun, grabbing it and getting to his feet, aiming for the 'agent'. "Just move. I'm really in the mood to shoot someone, pal."

The young man glared at the levitating gun fiercely.

Darien shut his eyes and focused, and a second later could see his hands holding the gun. He glanced over at the Boss. "You planned this out really well."

The Boss was already on the phone. He said a quick word and then hung up. "Very well done, Mr. Fawkes. You want to tell me how you knew he was a double agent?"

Darien shook his head to himself. "God, my life is a joke." His voice rose. "I want to hear how you plan to get Hobbes back. This little asshole can tell you where he is, I'll bet anything." A pulse went through him suddenly, making his hands shake slightly. His eyes went to the man sprawled on the ground, and a flash of anger cut with pure rage went through him, unbidden. "How about it, punk? Where's my partner?"

Krycek looked up at him almost smugly. "I don't know." 

"Let's try this again." Darien dropped the gun on the Boss's desk and crouched, grabbing the front of the cheap suit jacket and hauling the man up until he was right in his face. "You tell me who took Hobbes and where they have him, or you'll get to see a little side effect to invisibility first-hand." He could feel the pulses sliding through him, stronger every second, and clung to his self-control, hoping the Boss had enough sense to call his Keeper and get her and her magical needle up there. 

Krycek's eyes reflected a sudden fear, and Darien could almost see the reflection of his reddening eyes in the young creep's face. 

Still the punk didn't answer. Darien's hands moved to the guy's throat, squeezing gently. "I don't think you're listening to me."

Krycek rasped something out, but Darien's grip made his words just croaks. Darien was beyond caring, only tightening his hold. He watched with something like fascination as the face under his hands turned from pink to red to purple.

Hands appeared, grabbing at him from behind, but he didn't pay them any attention. A voice in the back of his head was screaming at him to stop, but like usual, the Quicksilver secretions flowed over that voice, drowning it under sheer manic rage.

Voices tried to get through to him, fingers tried to pry him off, but none of it got through to him.

Only the sharp sensation of a needle slicing into his arm cut through the rage, and from there a wave of calming darkness floated through him, shutting out first the anger and then everything else, and he was grateful for the oblivion.

Special Agent Robert Hobbes knew what a bad day felt like, and before he even forced his eyes open he knew he was having a massively bad fucking day. Like, a don't get out of bed because nothing that could happen, no lottery winning or fucking a supermodel or blowing up enemies of the United States could possibly neutralize the ache in his head enough to allow him to enjoy it kind of day.

He debated staying where he was, going with his gut instinct and just sleeping the day away. Unfortunately, as he found too many mornings, his instincts and his environment didn't agree. 

"Get the hell up."

Huh. Unless he had moved the switch on his alarm clock, that wasn't what was supposed to be greeting him in the morning. 

Come to think of it, why had he gone to bed on the bare cement floor of a dim and hot room, after giving himself a pretty good beating? That seemed strange, even by his standards.

"Hobbes, you want to drag your ass off the floor before we put a bullet in it?"

Yeah, that seemed to be an agreeable deal. Unfortunately, he couldn't quite find the voice to respond. His throat felt like sandpaper.

Still, his instincts were good, and now that they were aware he couldn't just sleep in, they were telling him to get his ass off the floor. So he lifted his head slowly, forcing his eyes open wider than a slit.

He tracked the slacks upwards, until a familiar smirking face looked down at him. "You just don't learn, do you, Bobby?"

Jones. 

He swallowed, and tried to say the name out loud. It didn't work. Finally he drug himself up against the wall, sitting upright with some effort. His limbs felt like they each weighed about a hundred pounds, and he was the first to admit he wasn't up to bench pressing quite that much.

The FBI agent watched him with something that looked like contempt in his eyes. "You _have_ been out of the game for a while."

Hobbes debated whether it would be worth it to hurt his throat by talking. 

Only one way to find out. "Fuck you." 

Ahh. Raspy, and stinging, but definitely worth it.

Jones just shook his head. "The drug should run through your system faster now that you're awake. You'll be your old, obnoxious self in no time, don't worry."

"What--" Hobbes cut off. God damn, his throat hurt.

"No questions. You'll know what we want you to know. Now get up."

Hobbes couldn't help a slight laugh at that. He could barely sit up. He was heavy, tired, sluggish. He could barely swallow, and he couldn't even work up the energy to demonstrate his complete and utter contempt for the man in front of him. 

Michael Jones was the kind of agent that had driven him away from the FBI. They had gone through Quantico together. The same class, anyway. They had nothing to do with each other in any other capacity. Jones came from a long line of Feds, a prestigious government family. He'd make AD in a couple of years; he was just that kind of ass-kissing weasel that had no place in protection. 

Bobby Hobbes had been a different breed entirely. His dad was a Vietnam vet with nothing to show for his service but an undying love for his country. His mother had died while he was too young to remember her. They hadn't been well off, but they were a proud clan. Him and his older brother had gone through Quantico, while his younger brother went into the Marines. Dad died poor enough to be considered embarrassing by the rich boys that made up the elite of Washington D.C. 

Mike Hobbes knew how to work the inner circles, and was probably somewhere working some nice and easy Fed function. Little brother Bobby never learned that lesson. Never much wanted to. His old man hadn't been much, but he wasn't anything to be ashamed of. He taught Bobby to fight with someone when they were wrong, and since Bob thought everyone but him was wrong pretty much all the time, his mouth kept him from making it. 

Of course, there was also the fact that people like Michael Jones and his cronies thought he was a paranoid psychotic with a lithium habit who made clean-cut pretty boy agents like him look bad.

Sad thing was, it was probably more based in truth than he cared to admit.

All of that, though, was in the past, and it snapped through his mind in a flash as he looked in disbelief at the FBI agent who had, by all appearances, kidnapped him. "What do you think you're doing?" he rasped out, regretting it when his throat almost collapsed in a coughing fit. 

Jones waited it out, his expression never changing. "I'm waiting for you to get yourself off the floor and make yourself presentable. If that's possible, which I'm still not sure of. Or are you speaking in more of a bigger scheme?"

Hobbes grinned faintly, staying right where he was. He crossed his feet in front of him for good measure. "Hope you're a patient man." He got through that entire sentence with only a slice of pain. He _was_ starting to feel better, and probably could have stood if he'd wanted to. 

"You know something? I am. Very patient. Unfortunately, I'm working for people who aren't quite as patient as me."

"Who would that be?"

"Exactly the same people you work for, Hobbes. Just a more reputable branch."

Hobbes peered up at him dubiously. "You're telling me the Feds had me snatched out of a van in the middle of a parking lot and brought to this dump? Either ops have changed since my time or you're a lying piece of shit. I know which one I believe."

"Still loud mouthed as ever, huh? Still forgetting that there are people who issue the orders, and people who should just shut up and obey. You never did learn your place." He came a couple of steps into the room and crouched until he was eye-level to his hostage. "You're nothing, Hobbes. You're a low life piece of rejected waste from Quantico. You wouldn't even be worth kidnapping if you weren't playing babysitter to that freak with the invisibility. We want to know about him, and that's the only reason your sorry ass is still alive."

Hobbes' eyes widened slightly as that hit him. So he was here because of Darien. No big surprise there. Not much of one, anyway. 

Oh, well. At least this part he knew how to handle. "Can we skip the next few minutes?"

Jones actually frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"The part where I refuse to tell you anything and you threaten me with fates worth than death, and I play the brave hero. Can we just accept that as done with and move to the next phase?" His strength was rapidly returning to him, and he even managed to swallow down most of the sandpaper in his throat.

"If that's what you want." Jones seemed more than willing. 

Hobbes almost scoffed at the smug look on the agent's face. What the hell could Jones possibly do to him? He was a Fed, claiming to be working under orders from the Bureau. He couldn't exactly torture anything out of someone on the same team as him, could he?

Hobbes was still working for the government, even if the division was a little less open and reputable than the FBI. They were on the same team.

How bad could this get?

*********

"No, to be perfectly honest, I _don't _understand why you're so worked up over this. It isn't like you and Hobbes were the best of friends."

Darien tried hard not to glare at the blonde woman monitoring him to make sure the Counteragent was doing its job and had the Quicksilver rage under control. "You really don't feel anything for anyone, do you?"

His Keeper smiled patiently. "Feelings don't have much place here," she replied, gesturing around the lab. 

He shook his head. "You're right, I don't like Hobbes much. He's a smug, paranoid asshole. But he was trying to keep me safe when whoever it was grabbed him, and I don't much like the idea that this Agency abandons people like Hobbes and me when we get into a little trouble."

"Oh, no, you're wrong there. Mr. Hobbes and you are in entirely different categories." She held a hand up to stop any response. "Hobbes is an agent. A pawn on the chessboard. Expendable. His loss will be felt, but not for very long. I'm sorry if that seems too callous for you, but you really should have figured that out. He is a field agent, a dime a dozen. And he knew it. If he has been killed, he probably died happy, with delusions of martyrdom and patriotism in his head." She turned away from the machines, satisfied that he was back to normal. "You, on the other hand, are going to be kept as safe as we can make you."

"That's bull shit."

"It's the truth. What's inside your head is of immeasurable importance to--"

"Not about me! Jesus, you really don't have any idea why I'm upset, do you?" Darien met her icy blue eyes, wondering why he was still surprised at the cool lack of emotion from this woman. 

"Of course I do. You're suffering from an innocent's rage at what you think is a needless sacrifice. I know why this is bothering you."

"But you don't understand."

"No," she admitted easily. "I don't."

Darien sat up, disgusted by the entire conversation. "I should have figured."

Before he could reach the door, it opened, and one of the Official's dark-suited lackeys appeared. "Mr. Fawkes?"

"What now?"

"Our boss wants to talk to you about your partner."

Darien's eyebrows flew up. "Really? It's about damned time." He moved past the man and headed upstairs for the offices. 

This really was bothering him, and truthfully, he wasn't sure himself exactly why. Yeah, he was pissed because a man working on a dangerous assignment was now in trouble, and his boss didn't seem concerned about helping him out. And yeah, it was worse because that man was working as Darien's partner.

But still. Hobbes was an asshole. It wasn't like Darien would miss him if he didn't come back. Right? Just because the guy had helped him out before when he was working to protect Jessica, and just because Hobbes had been working after hours to watch Darien's back against these men who were now chasing after him, it didn't mean they were friends.

Funny thing was, if the Boss had given him an order to risk his life to find Hobbes and bring him back, Darien would have bitched him out. If someone had insisted Darien work to save the obnoxious SOB, they would have had a fight, or at least a lengthy argument, on their hands.

But no one had. No one seemed to be giving a single moment to care about the missing man, and Darien was left, as a result, wanting to grab the heavy artillery and go after the bastards who had grabbed his partner.

His train of thought was interrupted as he arrived at his Boss's door. He didn't knock and didn't wait for an invitation. "You find something?"

The Boss glanced over at him, then finished whatever he was saying to the forty-something, nondescript man standing beside his desk. 

Darien moved up to them fast, but didn't hear whatever they were saying. "What's going on?" he asked impatiently. "Your yes-man said you wanted to talk--"

"Mr. Fawkes, this is your new partner."

Darien cut off in disbelief. "Excuse me?" It wasn't but a couple of hours after Darien had turned the table on his old new partner. 

"This is Agent--"

"Look, I don't want a partner. I came up here thinking you found something out about Hobbes."

The Official studied him for a moment, impassive. "Mr. Fawkes, can I just remind you who's following whose orders here? Now you came to work for us because we can be mutually beneficial to each other, and nothing about that has changed. We had no clause about partners, and you still need us now as badly as you did before. You will do what we say, when we say it. Now turn around and say hello to your new partner."

Darien's eyes narrowed dangerously. Responding to his rising anger, the gland sent a little pulse of energy through him, almost as if it was testing the waters to see if it should add to the feelings. He bit down the rising feelings, working for control before the little gland could get as enthusiastic about its work as it usually did. "Listen, Chief, I think--"

"No, you don't. You don't think, and you don't act, unless someone in this office gives you the okay."

His eyes flashed fire, and the gland sent another tingle through him.

But there wasn't a damned thing he could do. He could play stubborn and end up back in his padded cell and straight jacket, bouncing off the walls as the gland tore through brain cells, destroying them by the millions.

Or he could make nice and play along with this. He could agree to let this weasel tag along with him, and be out where he could do some good, in case he was needed. In case they actually _did_ find out anything about Hobbes.

Both choices sucked, but one sucked decidedly less than the other.

With a repressed sigh, he turned to the man beside him. "If you tell me your name is Spender, or Frohike, or anything like that, I'm going to cheerfully murder you."

One Week Later--

Well, that was that. Darien didn't have many options available to him, but the few he had he'd used, and to no avail. None of his few remaining contacts from his past -- i.e. his days as a thief -- had been any help at all, and now he had no idea where else to look.

Frankly, he was pissed off. He wanted to know what the hell had happened to his partner. He wanted to know who had come up to Hobbes the darkness in a parking lot and dragged him out of his van without much of a fight. He wanted to know who it was who had taken the ultra-paranoid Agent by surprise while Hobbes was outside of his apartment, making sure he was safe.

It pissed him off. It pissed him off even more that the Boss and his Keeper hadn't mentioned the man since then, and their placid assurances whenever he demanded to know what they were doing rang so false he was surprised they couldn't lie more convincingly. 

Outside his building, as he stood in the small lobby, a horn blasted suddenly.

Darien grimaced and went out the door, frowning at the car.

This was something else that pissed him off. Kirkpatrick, the shiny new partner the Agency supplied him with, and his car, his attitude, his presence. It pissed him off, and he wasn't sure if it was because the man was replacing Hobbes, or because he was just the most annoying human being on the face of the earth.

"Get in, pal. We've got to be at HQ in an hour, we got time to stop for coffee."

Darien shook his head with a sigh. It wasn't just that this man was always way too excited for his own good. He was also incredibly interested in Darien, and dazzled by the gland, and the Quicksilver, and everything else. He had some sort of scientific curiosity, and was caught somewhere between wanting to study Darien and wanting to be his best friend. They hadn't come under fire yet, so Darien really had no idea if the Agent was any good or not, but the guy was…

Hell. He wasn't Hobbes. Surprising how much that bothered him. It wasn't like he and Hobbes had been partners for that long, or liked each other at all. Still, Darien would have been more happy than he could say if the voice that greeted him in the morning was bitching about how early it was, or making some crack about Darien's punk hair-do.

Still. There were other things to worry about. The Agency had officially dismissed the presence of Jack Todd, super sniper, as having anything to do with Darien. The Boss's theory -- if he hadn't struck in the last week, he wasn't going to.

Darien wasn't convinced, though. Some of Hobbes' paranoia had rubbed off, it seemed. He kept feeling eyes on him, wherever he went. It creeped him out, and just added to the general pissed-off state he was living in lately. 

He got into the car, showing his disgust with the entire morning by not even growling a hello. He just slammed the door shut and stared out the window, ignoring his 'partner' if the man was dumb enough to try and say something to him.

The car started into motion, and them slammed to a stop with a surprised sound from the driver.

Darien glanced over at Kirkpatrick as the man let out a loud shout. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" He slammed on the horn a couple of times. 

Half-interested now, Darien looked ahead. There was a man in the parking lot in front of them, bracing himself on the hood of the car, which had probably almost just run him over. There was a hat blocking his face from view.

"What the hell?" Kirkpatrick lowered his window with the firm press of a button. "You want to get out of the way, pal?"

The man's head came up, looking directly into the passenger side.

Darien shot out of the car in a flash. "Hobbes! Jesus Christ, man, where the hell have you been?" He grabbed his partner's arm and yanked him to face him. "You know what I've--"

"Hey!" Hobbes spoke sharply, none of the relief Darien was feeling evident on his face. He pulled his arm from Darien's grasp quickly. "Wasn't my fault. I gotta talk to you."

"Yeah. Yeah, sure." Darien barely glanced at the car with the Agency's hired babysitter in it. He started for the apartments. "Come on. Jesus, I was actually almost worried about you, you son of a bitch."

Hobbes snorted, following Darien into the building. "Don't get all teary-eyed on me, hot shot."

The sarcasm was like a balm, and Darien instantly felt better as he and Hobbes headed up the stairs. "What happened to you?"

"Long story. I just need…"

Darien glanced back. Hobbes had stopped halfway up the stairwell, an odd expression on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Hobbes shook his head to clear it and started up again. "Guess I'm running on adrenaline here. Starting to catch up to me."

"Hang on, I'll get you some water or something. You don't look all that good."

Actually, now that they were in the fluorescent lighting of the stairwell, he could see that his missing partner looked like shit. Hobbes was pretty well covered in a long black coat and that dirty hat, so he couldn't make out details. But his face was pale, unshaven, his eyes red and bloodshot. "You gonna pass out on me?"

"Just keep moving. Save your concern for someone who needs it." Hobbes brushed past him and kept up the stairs, turning on the third floor and heading straight for Darien's door.

The younger man moved slower, studying Hobbes. Something was up here, that was for sure.

Surprisingly, it didn't really matter all that much. Just seeing Hobbes there, appearing out of the same nowhere he had disappeared into, that was enough for him. "So you want to tell me what happened?" He pushed past Hobbes and unlocked his door.

Hobbes moved past him, heading for the kitchen without a pause, as if he already knew where everything was laid out. He grabbed a glass and took Darien up on his offer for water. 

"Hobbes? You want to talk to me or should I call the Boss and get him to ask the questions?"

Hobbes turned so fast he almost stumbled. "No! Don't call anybody. Jesus, kid."

"What? Look, I've been fighting everybody in the Agency to get you back when I saw you were gone, the least you can do is tell me what happened."

Hobbes studied him for a minute, then turned his eyes to the rest of the apartment. "This place isn't bad. What's rent like?"

"Hobbes."

The Agent stopped in front of a large aquarium, gazing for a moment at the bubbles floating to the surface, the castles, the rocks at the bottom. "I didn't have you pegged as a fish man."

"Yeah, well, we're all full of surprises. And speaking of surprises--"

"This is nice," Hobbes cut him off, nodding at the aquarium.

Darien tried unsuccessfully to keep his voice from dripping with annoyance. "Thank you."

"Where are the fish?"

Darien glanced at the clean filtered water. "Dead. For about a month."

"Uh huh. Overfeed 'em?" Hobbes glanced back.

Darien crossed his arms over his chest, meeting his partner's eyes dead-on. "You're supposed to feed them?" he asked dryly.

Hobbes' mouth twitched in a faint smile.

"All right, are we through with the patter? If I want small talk I'll go back outside and hitch a ride with Mr. Personality."

"Look, kid, you don't want details. Trust me. It's a long story, and I don't feel up to explaining it right now."

"Come on! This is ridiculous!"

"No, I'm serious." Hobbes turned and moved around the small coffee table, setting his drink down carefully. "I really don't feel up to it right now."

Darien frowned. Hobbes was looking even paler than before, and was almost swaying where he stood. "Whoa. Did you lie to me about passing out? I've enough problems without you dropping dead here, man."

"I'll do what I can to…" He cut off, his eyes coming up suddenly and drilling into Darien's. "Don't tell them. Get your friend downstairs to keep his mouth shut."

"Why?"

"Tell you later."

"Later? Christ, Hobbes, I'm really starting to wonder why I missed you."

Hobbes grinned. "You…you missed me?" He looked like he wanted to say more; the familiar smart-ass smirk on his face was weak, but there.

Instead he stumbled once, shot Darien an almost pleading look, then fell in a heap on the floor.

Darien shook his head, concern and annoyance and relief at seeing his partner alive all warred inside of him. He crouched down, taking Hobbes' pulse to make sure he had just passed out, and then moved around him, grabbing him and hauling the limp body awkwardly up, half-dragging him to the bedroom. 

Hobbes didn't want anyone to know he was there? Fine. He wanted to stay quiet about what had happened? No problem. 

Darien dropped his partner on the bed, rolling him onto his back. He remembered Kirkpatrick, probably on his way up here by now to see what was going on.

He groaned. He would have to go in to the Agency, see what was on the boards for today. 

He shot one look back at Hobbes as he left the bedroom. He looked like he was down for the count, but there was no telling with that guy.

"You'd better be here when I get back, pal." He shut the door behind him and went off to see if he could control the damage Hobbes had done showing up in front of Kirkpatrick like that.

Fortunately, his eager-beaver new 'partner' was quick to go along with Darien's story that the man he had almost run over was his cousin from New York. It was a dumb story, and Darien knew it, but Kirkpatrick didn't question it. He must not have been told about Hobbes' disappearance. Figured. The Agency must have assumed Hobbes was out for the game, and there was no point mentioning him again.

It made him wonder how often their Agents had just vanished, and never been heard from again.

Unfortunately, he had to spend two hours at the Agency, being studied by his Keeper while Kirkpatrick was questioned about their hunt for Jack Todd, the elusive sniper. He tried to pay attention to his Keeper's questions, but his mind kept returning to the fact that his partner, who'd been missing for over a week, was now sleeping it off in his apartment. 

When he finally shook off the questions and finished with the Keeper, he didn't bother waiting for Kirkpatrick or checking in with the Boss.

He left the building in a hurry and caught a cab back to his apartment. Half-convinced Hobbes would for some reason be gone when he got there, he told the driver to step on it, and, once they were in front of his building, he tossed the man some money without bothering to count it. 

He was up the stairs and at his door in a flash, and he quickly unlocked the door and locked it again behind him.

He dropped his keys by the door, threw his jacket over the couch, and went to the bedroom, opening the door slowly.

No one was in there.

"Son of a _bitch_." He resisted the urge to slam the door shut, anger flooding through him. What the hell was Hobbes thinking? Why was he sneaking around like this? And where the hell had he been the last week?

Jesus, the guy was more of a headache than he was worth.

Darien moved out of the bedroom, stalking to his small kitchenette to get a beer.

On the way he noticed his bathroom door was shut. 

He never shut his bathroom door. Not even when he was using the toilet. What the hell was the point of living on your own if you had to shut the door to take a piss? 

He tried the knob. The door was locked.

His anger faded into relief. Shit, Hobbes hadn't left, he was just on the can or something.

He knocked on the door, projecting annoyance into his voice. "You drowning in there?"

There was no answer.

He frowned. "Hobbes, if you're planning to shoot me through the door, I'm gonna be pissed."

Still nothing.

Suspicious, and, though he'd never admit it allowed, a little concerned, Darien voiced one more warning. "You'd better get decent fast, 'cause I'm coming in." He waited a breath, and heard nothing. Drawing in a breath, he raised a leg and slammed it into the door near the knob.

The wood splintered, and his foot got caught in the small hole.

"Dammit!" He tugged his leg awkwardly out. "Mental note -- the movies lie about how easy it is to break down doors." He reached in as he was mumbling to himself and grabbed the knob from the inside, swinging it open. "Hobbes?"

He stopped in the doorway, gaping. 

His partner must have passed out trying to start a shower or something. He had gotten his shirt off, and was sprawled leaning against the tub, boneless.

Darien had a good long moment in nice, strong lighting to study his partner, and the marks on his body. Whatever had gone on in the last week, it hadn't been easy on Hobbes, that was for damned sure. There were bruises all over almost every inch of skin Darien could see, and a few angry red gashes. 

No wonder Hobbes had been reluctant to give details. 

He crouched down beside the limp form. "Hobbes?" He gingerly reached for his shoulder, almost scared to touch the guy. "Come on, wake up."

The figure under his hand didn't move.

"Come on, buddy, I've had enough dragging you around today. Open your eyes and say something stupid."

A small groan forced its way out, and Hobbes started to pry open heavy eyelids.

Darien grinned in relief. "You've got to stop scaring me like this, Hobbes."

At the sound of his voice, Hobbes' eyes flew open and he jerked away from the touch of Darien's hand. "No!"

Darien jerked his arm back in surprise. "Whoa, Hobbes, it's just me."

His eyes focused on Darien's face, and for a moment something like relief spread over him. It was covered up fast, though, by a darker, less friendly emotion. "Fawkes. Tell me I'm not on the floor of your can." His voice was strained, and the dark look in his eyes belied the light tone.

"I'd be making a liar out of myself," Darien answered back half-heartedly, reaching out a hand. "Can you stand up?"

Hobbes grabbed his hand and pushed himself to his feet. If he felt any pain at the sudden movements, he repressed it so well Darien couldn't see it. "Sorry."

"For what? Taking a nap on the tile?" Darien quickly bent and grabbed the discarded shirt from the floor. "Here."

Hobbes took it and looked down at himself, just noticing his half-dressed state. "Shit." 

"Yeah. So now do you want to tell me what happened?"

"No," he answered simply, tugging the shirt on and wincing at the movements it took. 

Darien blew out a breath. "Is there a reason you're being so stubborn, or are you just trying to piss me off again?"

"Pissing you off is as good a reason as I can think of," Hobbes answered blandly.

Darien stared at him for a minute, then turned on his heel and left the bathroom. He stormed to the kitchen, suddenly needing that beer now more than ever.

He moved to the fridge, then leaned against the counter, swigging half a bottle. He had to stay calm and get Hobbes to talk about what was happening. He knew it was bad -- looking at Hobbes told him that. He knew his partner needed help, even if he was too proud or stubborn or _stupid_ to admit it.

A voice sounded behind him, cued to his thoughts perfectly. "I need your help."

Darien turned instantly, his mouth opened to snap. 

Hobbes stood there quietly, gazing at him. The familiar cockiness in his bearing was completely absent. He looked like he was in pain, and sincere in his request.

Darien took a breath, biting down his anger. "You gonna talk to me?"

Hobbes hesitated, then nodded. "If you want to hear it, fine."

"Need a beer?"

For a moment he looked surprised. "No."

"Okay. Talk."

Hobbes shrugged. "Not much to say. You showed your ability to the wrong people, and now they want as much info about you as they can get."

Darien frowned. "So they took you?"

"I'm the logical choice."

"And they did _that_ to you to get information?" Darien waved his beer in Hobbes' general direction.

Hobbes shrugged, leaning back against the wall. "There's no real other way to do it."

"So what did you tell them?"

Hobbes straightened at that, his eyes boring into his partner's for a long moment. His face went hard, that dark emotion turning his eyes cold. "I can't believe you had the nerve to even ask me that."

"Whoa, relax." Darien had no idea what, but he had just done something really wrong. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah?" Hobbes snapped. "For what? For asking me if I went through all this and still told them everything I knew about you? For me getting caught and fucking beaten in the first place because of your sorry ass? For the fact that some freakish little gland in your head turned you from a small-time nobody con-job and thief into someone who's worth so much more than a joker like me who's fought all his life to get where he is?" He stepped forward, away from the wall, and sagged instantly, his strength draining out of him with his words.

Darien fought against two powerful impulses -- to help his partner before he passed out again, or to knock him out even colder for calling him a freak and a nobody.

Hobbes caught his balance, reaching a hand out to brace himself on the wall. He fought to catch suddenly rapid breathing, his eyes on the floor. "Look," he said quietly after a minute, "all I need is a place to hide out. Two days, that's it. Then you can kick me out and tell whoever you want that I was here, it won't matter any more."

Surprised by the sudden solemn tone, Darien studied Hobbes, breaking his stubborn stand by the fridge and going to him. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Why can't I tell the Boss that you're back?"

"Because he doesn't give a fuck. It's over for me. I've been written off, I probably was the first day I went missing." He raised a hand to ward off Darien's protest. "Wasn't that your new partner in the car this morning?"

Darien nodded reluctantly, silently saying a curse to the Boss and the Keeper and everyone else who insisted he accept Hobbes' disappearance as permanent. "I fought them on it."

Hobbes met his eyes, and his expression softened slightly. "You did, huh? That was nice, kid, but it doesn't matter. Besides, I can't show my face around the Agency for a couple more days. If they find out I'm back, they'll drag me there before I could stop them. I can stay here or I can leave, whatever you decide."

Darien thought about it, studying his partner. He refused to believe that once Hobbes was gone, he was gone for good. Surely the Boss would let him slide back into his spot. He'd only been missing for a week. 

Then another thought struck him. "How did you get away? Whoever had you must have had interest in keeping quiet, why'd they let you go?"

"They didn't. I just left."

That answer was way too casual, considering Hobbes' appearance. "Just left, huh?"

"Yeah."

Darien shook his head, irritated. "You know, I might be more inclined to have a roommate for the next few days if you would just start giving me some straight answers."

"Dammit, Fawkes, you just don't get it. I can't say anything to you. Not yet, anyway." He stopped his argument suddenly, pushing away from the wall again and staying tall on his feet with some effort. "Fuck this. I'll find some other way. Thanks for nothing, ace." He moved faster than he should have been able to given his condition, out of the kitchen and in the living room before Darien could say anything.

"Hobbes, for Christ's sake, you're acting like a spoiled kid. All I want is some idea of what happened -- that isn't too much to ask, I don't think."

Hobbes had stopped at his words, standing in the middle of the living room by Darien's large, battered couch. He turned around, facing Darien, completely and totally serious. "I'm gonna lay it out for you, Darien."

Surprised at the use of his first name, Darien just listened.   


"I've got no place else to go right now, nowhere they won't be looking for me. The only reason I came here is because it's such a stupid thing to do they'll never even look. There's something I've got to take care of, and I need to be close to do it. You kick me out and I'll find some way, but it won't be easy." The words came through with some difficulty.

Darien knew the cocky agent was struggling to get this out, this plea for help. Out of respect for that, again he kept his mouth shut.

"I can't tell you anything, and I'm actually a little sorry I can't. They'll know I told you, and they'd know I was here. You just gotta trust me on this. I know we haven't been partners long, and I know I haven't done much to make you like me, but you know you can trust me, right?"

Darien hesitated, then nodded slowly. Hobbes had a sense of honor, as misguided as Darien might have thought it was. "I know."

Hobbes gave a small nod of thanks. "Well? That's it. It's your call now."

He already knew what he was going to say, of course, but he made Hobbes wait a minute anyway. He had to work through the mess his life had turned into over the last few hours and decide if this was going to be a mistake or not.

Hell, of course it was a mistake. But he'd made mistakes before and he sure as hell would again, so screw it.

"You can take the couch. I don't give up my bed for anybody."

Hobbes followed him to work the next day.

Darien had no idea why, but one well-timed glance back towards the apartment revealed Hobbes leaving the building and heading for the parking lot. 

A white sedan pulled out a minute later, and tailed them all the way to the Agency.

Darien didn't say anything to his chatty partner, but he wondered about it. If Hobbes didn't want the Boss to know he was back, he wasn't being smart following Darien in to the Agency.

But there he was. Darien went to the Labs to let his Keeper check up on him, sat through a few minutes of tedious detail-oriented Agency talk between Kirkpatrick and the Boss, and that was it for the day. 

On the drive home, he looked for and saw the same white sedan, hanging a few cars back. 

Kirkpatrick dropped him at his apartment, and Darien stood on the steps going into the building and waited. 

The sedan pulled in, and Hobbes came strolling up a moment later, looking nothing at all like there was anything strange about it. "Good day at the office?" he asked with a grin.

Darien just gazed at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Going inside." Hobbes brushed past him and into the building.

Darien almost growled, but followed his stubborn, silent partner into the building. 

Once they were safely inside the closed walls of the apartment, he debated asking again. 

"Just leave it alone, Fawkes. You do your thing, I'll do mine." 

Darien shut his mouth, annoyed. "You really don't like me at all, do you? Why the hell would you even come here if you needed somewhere to stay? I can't be the only choice you had. No one's that bad off."

Hobbes moved to the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing Darien's last bottle of beer. "You'd be surprised," he answered, his voice carrying an undercurrent of bitterness. 

Darien turned, stalking back towards his bedroom. "This is such utter bullshit." He couldn't help grumbling that out loud, forcing himself to forget about Hobbes. His partner wanted to play his own game? Fine. He didn't have to feign interest in it anymore.

It surprised him when he heard Hobbes' voice from the front of the apartment. "You want delivery? I'm starving."

Darien sat on his bed and looked at the shut door for a moment, debating how to answer that. Jesus, he would never understand that man. Hobbes was hot one minute, cold the next. He could shift his state of being around as easily as other people could change their clothes. 

When Hobbes spoke again, it was closer to the door. "I recommend pizza. If anyone's watching closely and you get two dinners sent up here, they'll suspect something."

Darien smirked at that. Paranoid to the end. "If anyone was watching that closely they would have seen you stroll through the door ten minutes ago."

There was a pause. "You've got a point there." Hobbes didn't sound very dismayed at his own carelessness. "You want Chinese? Forget it, I'll surprise you."

Darien rolled his eyes and dropped on his back on the bed. He just wanted a few minutes of peace and quiet to get these strange few days sorted out in his mind. He needed to figure out what to do about Hobbes, what to do about Kirkpatrick and the Boss…

He had to find out where Hobbes had been the last week. Someone was after Darien, and he wanted to know who the hell it was.

Hobbes had given him one little clue. Something about him revealing his abilities in front of the wrong people. It had to have something to do with the Boss berating him for appearing in front of Anders before he arrested him.

So it must have been that day in the woods. But…

But unless there were hikers or campers nearby, the only people out there were the other FBI agents. And Hobbes.

But it couldn't have been the Feds. Not if they actually tortured his partner to get information out of him.

Could it?

Surprisingly, Hobbes left him alone to think for a good forty minutes.

When he finally came and stuck his head in the door, of course without knocking, he grinned in at the prone man. "Food's here."

Darien groaned and sat up. He followed Hobbes into the living room and shook his head at the pizza box sitting on the table. Hobbes' paranoia had won the argument over what food to get. "Tell me you at least got pepperoni."

"Italian sausage. You should've answered me, I guess." Hobbes was completely unapologetic as he grabbed a napkin and his still half-full beer and headed for the living room. "Bring the box. There's a show coming on I wanna see."

For some reason the king-of-the-hill attitude still surprised Darien. He shook his head, partly annoyed, partly amused. But he grabbed the food and moved into the small living room, dropping on the sofa beside Hobbes, who was now scanning the channels, remote firmly in hand. "Should I take a guess? Maybe the X-Files are coming on, huh, Mulder?"

Hobbes glanced over. "I told you not to call me that."

"Why so touchy? I still don't know why you didn't tell me you used to be a Fed."

"Not worth mentioning." Hobbes' gaze went back to the TV. 

After another minute of surfing, he finally found the channel he was looking for and stopped. 

Darien watched him put the remote down and his mouth dropped open. "This is what you want to watch?"

Hobbes shrugged, settling back after grabbing a slice of pizza. "Sure. It's interesting."

Dubious eyes went back to the screen, where some twenty-something, self-important kid was talking to the camera, explaining why he couldn't stand one of his roommates. Some MTV reality show. "Are you pulling my leg here?"

Hobbes grinned. "It's nice you're questioning me again. I haven't gotten enough of that the last two days." He shrugged. "I like it. It's…vapid. Inane. I like watching people whose major life catastrophes involve a boyfriend cheating on 'em, or some other clueless roommate leaving the cap of the toothpaste."

Darien laughed quietly. "Kind of checking on how the other half lives?"

Hobbes glanced over, surprised. "Why would you say that?"

"Because, these kids aren't you. I'll bet you were looking up alien abductions and government conspiracies in high school."

"I said cut it out with the Mulder thing, Fawkes."

Darien raised a hand. "I'm serious. I just can't picture you going to the prom, ya know?"

Hobbes watched the screen for a minute, then actually smiled somewhat. "What about you? I guess you stayed in the coat room at graduation and picked pockets."

"Watch it, asshole." Darien grinned, though. "Seriously, did you want to do this shady government thing when you were a kid? I can just picture you glued to old episodes of Mission: Impossible."

"Great show. Barbara Bane, total fox."

"I knew it."

"So I wanted to do this. So what? It runs in my family. What about you? Let me guess -- the Fugitive."

"Before my time. I used to watch old reruns of the Green Hornet."

Hobbes chuckled. "Really?"

"Sure. You know, everyone thinks the guy is nothing but a criminal, but really he's saving their asses over and over again."

"That how you see yourself?"

Darien's grin suddenly faded. "You said it yourself. Nothing but a loser and a con-artist. The only thing I got going for me is this damned thing in my head."

"Nah. You got a good heart, kid. You're brave. The Agency wouldn't have picked just anyone to work for them, Quicksilver or not." Hobbes laughed suddenly, but the sound didn't carry much humor. "That's why you're so screwed, Darien."

"Me? Since when am I screwed?"

"Since the day the Agency found out about that gland. Someone like you never should have gotten involved with this. They're gonna bleed you dry and throw you out when you've got no life left in you."

Darien faced him, surprised. "I thought you were loyal to these guys."

"I am. Stupid, huh? But it's okay for me, it's what I was meant for. Not you, though. You could do more good than they'll let you do, if you were out on your own."

Darien smiled tightly. "No chance of that, though."

"Not anymore. And I'm actually sorry as hell about that."

Darien met his eyes, and saw he was serious. 

Right when he thought he had a handle on Hobbes, the guy threw something like this into the mix and screwed his perception all up.

"What's with that look?"

"You're so fucking strange."

Hobbes laughed at that. "Flattery's cheap."

"I mean it. I don't get you."

"Well, we never did have much in the way of conversations, ace." Hobbes turned away from him, dropping his first half-eaten slice down on his napkin, his good humor suddenly gone. 

"I thought you were starving."

"Yeah. And I ate. Now I'm not."

Great. He was closed off again. "What happened? See, this is driving me crazy. I can't say anything to you without you getting weird on me."

"Don't sweat it, kid." Hobbes stood suddenly, going to the sliding door that led out to Darien's plain, square, tiny little terrace. He opened the curtains a crack and stared outside, leaning against the wall and getting himself comfortable. 

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

Darien glared as he stood. "I don't know why people say you're such a good paranoiac. You don't stand by a window if you don't want people to know you're here. What's wrong with you?"

"Don't worry," Hobbes stated flatly. "I'll see them first."

"See who?"

"I said don't sweat it, hotshot."

"Great. Just great." Darien's hands clenched into fists of frustration. This was starting to drive him crazy. Just when he thought the two of them were actually having a semi-normal conversation, the guy has to get mysterious again. He couldn't turn it off for one meal. "I'm going to bed," he announced flatly. 

Hobbes glanced back, looking disinterested, then went back to facing the window.

Grumbling under his breath, Darien started across the living room.

"Shit!" Hobbes moved faster than Darien would have thought possible, shutting the curtain and at the front door in a flash. "Stay low, kid."

Darien gaped as the door opened and shut again, and Hobbes was gone.

What now?

Hobbes went down the stairs at a dead run, reaching into the waistband of his pants and yanking out the old service pistol he'd been forced to buy at a pawn shop. 

They weren't supposed to make a move this early. Tomorrow at the earliest, he thought. Not surprising he'd gotten it wrong. At least he'd been there looking out the window. 

He just hoped Darien did as he was told and stayed down. Knowing that kid he'd be out the door and after him.

He left the front door of the apartment at a run, knowing his window was small. As soon as they saw him coming, they'd take the shot and be gone in less than a minute.

He made a beeline for the row of trees where he had seen the dark car parked. He didn't bother hiding himself -- they had seen him coming from the moment he left the door. Hopefully they would take the shot at him instead of into the apartment. 

Sure enough, a flash of wind snaked past his cheek, so fast and hot that he could feel it. 

He almost stumbled, realizing he had come within an inch of being killed. Still, he kept running. 

Behind him, because he was listening for it, came the sound of splintering glass. He flinched as he ran, hoping like hell Darien was out of the way.

He raised the gun, firing towards the car.

He could see figures diving into the car in the shade of some trees. He fired two rounds in quick succession, almost sloppily. 

The car started.

He aimed, fired, and grinned when the front tire blew with a loud pop. 

The door flew open and the driver came out, gun rising.

Hobbes took him out with one shot to the shoulder. The gun went flying and the driver hit the car and slid down it. 

The front passenger door and two back doors opened, and the other three dove out, one man on Hobbes' side of the car, the other two behind. 

Hobbes took out the one he could see easily, before the man even had a chance to raise his gun. He fired, and winced as the shot went a little too far down, piercing the man's heart and killing him almost instantly.

Damn, he hadn't meant to kill anybody. These guys were no use to the Agency dead.

A movement behind him was felt more than heard, and Hobbes spun around.

No one was there.

He turned back to the two men still hiding behind the safety of their car, and stood there in plain view, waiting for them to stick their heads up. 

"I'll drive them out towards you," a voice said from the empty air beside him.

Hobbes turned a glare to his invisible partner. "Fawkes, you son of a bitch, I told you to stay where you--"

A couple of shots rang out, sending Hobbes diving to the ground. A grunt sounded beside him, and he felt the splatter of something cold on his arm. He saw the smallish globs of silver on his shirt reform and lose their coldness as they became the bright red color of blood.

"Fawkes?" Hobbes kept his eyes on the car. "Dammit, you'd better not be dead, you asshole."

There was no answer.

"Shit! Kid, I didn't go through a week of hell just to let them get away with their plot." He stayed flat, tilting his head towards when Fawkes had been.

Slowly, a large, familiar shaped silver form appeared to his vision, and even more slowly the metallic form shifted to flesh and blood, literally.

"There he is!" 

Hobbes heard the voice from over his head, and he stayed flat on the ground as footsteps pounded their way from the direction of the car.

Fawkes was still, his eyes shut, and Hobbes couldn't move to look over him and figure out where he'd been hit. 

He stayed still, playing dead, until the two men were almost right on top of Darien.

And then he surged up, sweeping his gun out so fast his arm was a blur, and popped two shots so fast the retorts almost rang as one.

The two men dropped, dead, killed instantly by lead ripping through their skulls. 

Hobbes refused to feel remorse this time, ignoring the two men so he could check out his partner. "Fawkes?" He rolled the crumpled body over and stifled a curse. It was just a scratch, but right in the side, and bleeding like crazy.

He couldn't handle this on his own. He couldn't patch Darien up.

But he could trust the Agency to watch him alone now, now that Jack Todd and his buddies had been disposed of.

He hoped.

"Oh, Christ. Aw, crap." Darien's voice was a mumble. "That hurts, lady."

His Keeper smiled down at him as his eyes fluttered open. "They usually do."

"What does?" For the life of him, he couldn't remember why he was there, or why his entire stomach seemed numb and in pain at the same time. 

"Bullets. Those things that come out of guns when people shoot at you. Ring a bell?"

"Oh, God, you sound like Hobbes." He sat up suddenly, a flood of memory washing over him. "Hobbes!"

She pushed him back down. "You don't quit, do you? He's gone, Darien. Stop thinking about him. Give your body a chance to recover, as we can--"

"He's gone?" Darien blinked up at her. Somehow Hobbes must have stayed hidden, even after the shoot-out. But then… "How did I get here?"

"Someone phoned the police about a shooting. Naturally when your address was given, we sent someone to check it out."

"Naturally." Darien grinned slightly. He wasn't surprised the sneaky Agent had managed to get him help without exposing himself.

Oh, shit. "How long have I been here?" he asked suddenly.

"A few hours. You lost a good deal of blood, but we've managed to--" She cut off as Darien shakily moved to get to his feet. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

"I have to go home." He braced a hand on his side, ignoring the flash of pain as he got to his feet.

His Keeper watched him, for once making no move to stop him. "You think you're going to make it home in this condition?"

"Doesn't take much energy to sit in a cab."

"Do you mind telling me why you're in such a rush?"

Darien took a few steps awkwardly, not even looking back at her. "Forgot to feed the fish," he said. It wasn't a lie.

"Mr. Fawkes…"

"Look, you patched me up. Thanks. I gotta get home and get some sleep, okay?"

"I don't recommend this."

"Of course you don't. See you tomorrow."

Darien was surprised at how reluctant he was to open his own door.

Hobbes had said from the beginning that he was only staying around until he did whatever it was that he had to do. Was stopping Todd what he was planning all along? 

If it was, that meant that when he opened this door, Hobbes wouldn't be there. And for some strange reason, that idea really bothered him. The man was infuriating, but he was…a friend? Maybe. At the very least, he was someone who had gone out of his way to keep Darien safe, and Darien couldn't forget that.

He finally talked himself into swinging the door open, and was rewarded by a familiar voice.

"Hey, kid! You're doing all right?"

Darien couldn't hide a relieved smile. "Yeah. I'm good."

Hobbes was lounged on his couch, his feet kicked up on the small coffee table. "I hope the ice princess at least gave you some pain pills. You'll need them to get sleep at night."

"Oh. I don't know, I left right after I woke up."

Hobbes dropped his feet and stood. "What'd you do that for?" He glanced around the living room, then spotted whatever he was looking for and went over.

Darien watched with a sinking feeling as Hobbes found the long coat he had first arrived in and shrugged it over his shoulders. "I was worried you'd be gone," he admitted.

Hobbes stopped mid-gesture, turning surprised eyes to him. "I owe you some money or something?"

Darien knew what he was asking, and shook his head. "Look, I know I've acted like you're not really welcome here, but where else are you going to go? I can't buy that the Agency wouldn't want to know you're back. I don't get what you're thinking."

"Oh. Hell, you tell the boys at the Agency whatever you want now. I'm done."

"So it _was_ Todd you were after the last two days?"

"Yep. I heard before I left that they were planning to use Todd now that the Agency was off alert about him. They were supposed to use him to bring you out into the open so they could get their hands on you."

"So why didn't you tell me?"

Hobbes grinned slightly. "If I had told you, you'd have freaked out, kid. You would have told the Boss, and he would have put you on twenty-four hour watch. If they had seen that, they'd know I was here talking to you, and that would have been it."

Darien moved to the couch, dropping down heavily. Standing there for so long had made his side twist in knots and send small flashes of pain through his chest. "So what now?"

"Got me."

"Why not go to the Boss?"

The grin lost its humor. "You just don't get it. Here, let me show you." He went to the phone and picked it up, dialing the familiar seven digits. His eyes on Darien, he spoke. "Hey, Chief. It's Hobbes." A moment later, he pulled the phone away from his ear and held it close enough that Darien could hear the dial tone. "I told you, I'm done. I'm compromised. They don't know what happened to me the last week, they don't know if I've been brainwashed or something, so they just can't use me anymore." He dropped the phone. 

Darien shook his head, his hand holding his side. "This is sick. As long as you've worked for them, they can just ignore you like that?"

Hobbes laughed. "Don't get the wrong idea about me, Fawkes. I talk a big game, but I'm just another Agent. They have dozens of them. I happened to be good enough to land a gig as your babysitter, but that's as far as my credit with them goes." He shrugged into his jacket and started looking around for the hat. 

"Hang on. You can't just leave."

"Why not?" Hobbes glanced back, genuinely curious. "Seriously. Why not? I'm not your partner anymore. I'm sure they've got you put with someone who's a little more agreeable, so why sweat it?"

Darien looked up at him seriously. "I never stopped thinking of you as my partner." It surprised him that that was actually true. Even when Hobbes was gone and Kirkpatrick was jabbering at his side, Hobbes had been his partner. 

Strange that he hadn't felt so certain about their partnership until it was endangered.

Hobbes watched him for a minute, almost looking like he was waiting for the punch line. When it didn't come, he turned his back silently and went on with the search.

Darien got to his feet quickly. It just couldn't happen this way. "Look, would you just…" The blood drained out of his face at the rapid movement put even more strain on his injured side.

Hobbes turned around, hearing the weakness in his voice. A moment later he was at Darien's side, helping ham back down onto the couch. "Jesus, kid. You don't have much experience with bullet wounds, huh?"

Darien breathed in as he sat back, and Hobbes grabbed his ankles and swung him over until he was prone on the couch. 

"Just take it easy. You're young, you're not invincible. You need a little recovery time."

He accepted the advice without protest, feeling cobwebs sliding up into his brain, making his thoughts fuzzy. 

"Shit. You gonna pass out on me?"

Darien thought about it. Finally he nodded. "Yeah. Do me a favor?"

"What's that?"

"Stay here."

"Shit, Darien. What are you trying--"

"Please?"

Hobbes' mouth shut with a snap, and he stared down at Darien for a long moment.

Darien wanted to say more, to do a little more to forward his cause, but his body wasn't cooperating. He wanted to be unconscious, and so a minute later he was.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit."

Darien heard the mantra being voiced over his head somewhere, and it slowly dragged him out of the strange foggy sleep he had fallen into. He lied still for a moment, taking stock of the backache and neck cramps he had now, and realized he must have gone to sleep on his couch last night.

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

He shifted, trying to move onto his side, and a hot metal rod jammed into his side. He whimpered lightly, his eyes opening and searching for the wielder of the torture device.

No one was there. The fiery rod was emanating from under some bandages on his stomach and side.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit."

He moved a hand up gingerly to press at the bandage, and was rewarded by another sharp jab of a burning knife. He gasped in a breath, wondering how bullet wounds could hurt so much and not be fatal.

"Shit."

His vision cleared slightly, the gray around the edges of his sight lifting. He caught sight of a pacing figure in the shadows of the dark room, and he almost smiled through the pain in his side. Hobbes. He was still there.

He swallowed and said it out loud. "Hobbes."

The pacing stopped, and Hobbes came and crouched down by his side, checking him over with a clinical air. "You've been out for a while, Darien. How you feeling?"

"Horrible."

"Uh huh. Should have stuck around and gotten some medication. That woman's got to be good for something."

"…time is it?"

Hobbes glanced at his watch. "Quarter after three."

"In the morning?" He swallowed again. His throat felt like sandpaper. 

Hobbes noticed. "Hang on, I'll get you some water. You got any Tylenol in this place?"

"Mmm hmm. Fridge."

Hobbes stood and left his line of vision. 

Darien relaxed flat on his back, letting out a sigh. Lord, he hurt. He'd been shot in the arm before and it hadn't hurt this much.

He'd never get back to sleep. Hobbes had been right about that. No way was his body going to let him forget that wound long enough to doze off.

"Here ya go. You know, God invented those little cabinets behind the bathroom mirrors for a reason. That space on top of the fridge is supposed to be for dust to gather undisturbed." Hobbes lofted a glass of water and some pills. "Sit up."

"No way in hell," Darien breathed.

"Shit." Hobbes grinned good-naturedly and put the two pills in Darien's hand. He brought his hand up behind Darien's neck and titled his head forward, surprisingly gently. "Come on, son. Swallow the pills like a good boy."

"Screw you," Darien said without heat. He did as he was told, though, and Hobbes brought the glass of water to his mouth and tilted to let him swallow. 

The pills felt huge going down, but the swallows of water afterwards felt like heaven. He sighed and Hobbes lowered his head again gently onto the pillow.

Pillow? Darien looked down and saw the bedspread from his own bed resting on top of him, and he almost blushed. "You getting a good laugh out of this?" he asked hoarsely.

Hobbes grinned. "Sure. Tucking in the government's top secret weapon like a baby? I took a few pictures, but we can talk about the price if you want the negatives."

Darien grinned crookedly. "Guess I should thank you."

"Don't bother." Hobbes stood. "Get some sleep, kid. You'll feel better in the morning."

"What about you?"

"I'm just hanging out."

"Yeah, sure. I heard you. You need some sleep too. Take the bed."

"Darien--"

"Robert." Darien looked at him.

Hobbes' eyebrows shot up. 

Darien stared at him steadily. 

A minute later the Agent smiled. It was for once free of sarcasm or condescension. A real, genuine smile. "Bobby," he said quietly. "I hate Robert."

It was Darien's turn to be surprised, but Hobbes turned and went into the hall going to the bedroom before he could say anything.

After watching the minute hand tick one more time, losing count somewhere around two hundred and seventy, Darien moved himself carefully into a sitting position. He just wasn't going to get to sleep. The sun was gonna come up soon anyway, why bother?

He reached for the remote to the television, then glanced over towards the bedroom.

The door to his room was cracked open, which struck him as strange. Someone as edgy as Hobbes should have had it shut and locked and a chair under the knob, just in case. 

Had he left it open so he would hear Darien in case there was a problem?

For some reason, that thought made Darien feel a little bit safer. Hobbes was over the top, true, but he was also astonishingly good at his job most of the time. Besides, he had been watching over Darien for the last few days, and as a result had stopped killers from taking shots at him or grabbing him to take to some lab and dissect. He had spent a week going through God only knew what, and still he waited around to make sure Darien was safe before he tried to pull whatever disappearing act he had planned. 

He was a surprisingly good guy, who, for some reason, was making it a high priority to keep Darien safe.

And that, too, struck him as strange. Hobbes could just as easily have called in and told Darien about Todd, making himself scarce. But he didn't. He came to watch over him personally.

And now that Darien thought about it, Hobbes had done a lot more than just stop Todd. He had gone out there, under steady fire, placing himself right in the open. Why? To keep them from shooting at the apartment? Offering himself as a target to get their attention off Darien?

That thought bothered him. Hobbes had come close to getting shot. Getting killed. Had it been purposeful?

His mind now bogged down with these thoughts, he almost didn't hear the faint noise coming from the bedroom. 

But he did hear it, barely, and he swung his gaze towards the cracked door. 

It came again, soft and unrecognizable. 

Shit. He had to stand now.

Darien moved slowly, bracing a hand against his side as he slowly rose to his feet. The throb of pain that went down him wasn't as bad as it had been before, and he thanked God and all the makers of Tylenol products for that. 

He walked stiffly, shuffling over to the small hallway and to the door on the right. Cracking the door open a little wider, he peeked his head in.

A moment later he stumbled into the room, feeling a great deal of disgust towards himself.

Jesus, he had somehow forgotten Hobbes. He had forgotten the last two weeks of Hobbes' life, the time he was missing and whatever he had gone through during it.

The reminder was staring him clear in the face.

Hobbes had stripped down to boxers, and the sheets had been kicked off near his feet even though the room was cool. Almost as if the touch of the fabric was too much. He was now exposed, his bruises and scars visible again, and this time Darien could see similar bruises up his legs and into covered territory. 

Jesus H. Christ. Who the hell had done this? Who had worked him over so incredibly thoroughly?

Hobbes groaned again, shifting slightly, and Darien interrupted his thoughts and moved closer to the bed. He should wake him up, see if Hobbes wanted some Tylenol or something. He had to be hurting, even if he wouldn't let Darien see that he was.

Hobbes moved again, mumbling a few words too low for Darien to hear. 

The younger man moved to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out uncertainly to touch an unbruised patch on Hobbes' arm. "Hey, Hobbes?"

Hobbes immediately tugged his arm away from the touch, but didn't wake up.

"Hob…uh. Bobby?" He tried the name out awkwardly. Surprisingly, it felt pretty natural. "Bobby, you okay?" He reached for the arm again, shaking him slightly. 

Hobbes jerked as though burned, his eyes flying open as he sat up in a bolt of movement. "No! Stop!"

Darien jerked back, almost falling off the bed. "Hey!"

"Stop! Please, just stop!" Wide eyes swung over Darien without seeing him, and Hobbes' expression was fixed with pain and…fear. He was shaking slightly, his hands coming out in front of him as if to ward off some invisible attacker. 

Darien swallowed, absolutely clueless about what he should do. "Bobby? It's me, it's Darien. Come on, relax. You must have been dreaming."

It worked. Hobbes seemed to slump in on himself slowly, his eyes shutting tightly and his hands covering his face for a brief moment. 

When he looked up again, he turned directly to Darien. "Shit, kid. I'm sorry about that." His voice was struggling to be calm, but his ragged breathing gave away his distress.

"Must have been some nightmare."

Hobbes looked down at himself almost unconsciously, and reached for the sheets to pull over his bruised body a little too late. "It was," he said quietly.

Darien wasn't sure if he was talking about just the dream. "You want to talk about it?"

Hobbes kept his eyes on his lap. "Go back to sleep, Fawkes."

"I wasn't sleeping."

Hobbes' attention latched onto that. "You can't sleep? You need more pills?"

"No, it won't help. I'll go to the lab today and pick something up. I'll be fine."

"You need sleep, kid. This isn't a good time to be ignoring things like--"

"Would you stop? I'm fine. Why the hell are you so worried about me, anyway?"

Hobbes smirked, his smug, smart-ass mask falling neatly into place. "I guess I--"

"No." Darien spoke up the minute he saw the other man's expression. "Don't do that shit. I want a straight answer. You were ready to get yourself shot for me yesterday, you've spent all this time taking care of me. Why? A week ago you couldn't have cared less about me."

Hobbes shook his head slightly. "That's not true."

"Yeah? Why? Why do you care so much?"

"You want to know the truth?"

Darien nodded firmly. "It would be a small miracle, if you could manage it."

Hobbes didn't respond to the sarcastic tone. He simply shrugged. "They need you."

"What?" Darien blinked. "Who needs me?"

"The Agency. The government. The entire U S of fucking A."

"Are you kidding me? Jesus, I can't believe you're serious about this patriotic bullshit you ramble about all the time."

Hobbes met his eyes in challenge. "We've all got different priorities, ace. You grew up looking out for number one, I grew up being taught what number one is: America. The nation. The people. Everything worthwhile in a person is in what they can do for the country they live in. Laugh all you want -- they were my father's beliefs, and they're mine."

Darien thought about that. Hobbes was absolutely serious, he could tell. He had been serious from day one. All bitching and griping about security clearances and pay raises aside, Hobbes was always ready to kill or be killed to help his cause. His country.

It blew Darien away that people could actually think like that. That they could actually have so much loyalty to something other than themselves was such a foreign concept.

"So you help me because I can offer something to my country?" He tried not to sound too dubious.

"Mostly, yeah. You've already done some good, but you can do so much more. I told you I was sorry you'd gotten involved with the Agency, and I meant it. They're going to suck you dry, and personally, I feel bad for you. But if they had asked me to help reel you in, I would have. The good you'll do is so much more than the bad it'll do to you."

Darien shook his head. "And you think it's fair that I get suckered into this without being given a choice? I got news for you -- my priorities are nothing like yours. I want to live to see old age. I have no desire to be a martyr for any cause."

Hobbes glared right back, but after a minute something changed in his expression and he looked down again. "World's a funny place, isn't it?" There was a sudden dark humor in his tone.

"I'm glad you think it's amusing."

"You see me laughing? I don't think it's funny at all. I think it's pathetic. I'm pathetic. It's all so screwed, I don't see how…" He shook his head, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes tiredly. "You still want to know what happened to me the last week, kid?"

Surprised at the change in subject, Darien nodded. 

"I got debriefed by the FBI. My old company. It's hilarious, isn't it?" 

"The FBI? They did this to you?" Darien couldn't believe it, even though he had practically reached the same guess himself. "Why?"

"Because. You can help."

"But I _am_ helping! I thought we were all playing for the same team here!"

"So did I. Guess we're both naïve, huh?" Hobbes chuckled darkly. "Funny thing is, _I_ should have known better. You, you're clueless, but that isn't your fault. Me, I get off on thinking everyone's a bad guy. Funny how the only people I trusted turned out to be the real evil ones, isn't it?"

Darien shook his head, trying to piece it together in his mind. "I don't understand."

"What now?"

"You. I don't get you. How the hell can you possibly have any love for the people you worked for? Especially now? The Agency has dropped you, the FBI fucking tortured you, and you still want to watch over me so I can help them?"

"Funny. I know. I grew up wanting to be exactly what I am. What I _was_, anyway." His voice grew softer. "I've wanted nothing else my entire life but to follow in my dad's footsteps, be a help, be worth something to my country. I went through Quantico, put up with shit from every person there who said I didn't belong. After they dropped me, I picked up with the Agency, and yeah, I was just another pawn on their chessboard, but I was _helping_. It's all I wanted. I know you don't understand, but…" He shook his head.

Darien swallowed. He was seeing sides to Hobbes in the last two days he never even dreamed existed, and he had no idea how to handle it.

Hobbes glanced over at him, then smiled bitterly. "I guess it is funny. I work all my life for it, and you get dragged in against your will. I want to do everything I can and they don't need me anymore. You resist every inch of the way and they're fighting to get their hands on you." He met Darien's eyes suddenly. "And yeah, I still believe my father was right. Darien, you're worth me risking my ass protecting, because you're worth so much to the Agency. Me, I'm worthless. I can't do anything for them."   


Darien opened his mouth instantly to protest. "Hobbes, you--"

"That's why I'm getting out of town," Hobbes went on without acknowledging Darien's reaction. "They don't need me taking up space here."

"Fuck them." Darien couldn't listen anymore. "Jesus, Bobby. Who gives a shit what they think? I know, I know. Different priorities. I can't understand. But I want to. I want to know why these people have some power to decide some idiot like me is worth so much more than you. I couldn't give two shits about this country. You're the one that should have this thing in your head. I wish I could give it to you, I really do."

"No thanks, kid. I've seen what it does to you." Hobbes' voice was flat.

"Do you have to have some cause to fight for? I mean, really, do you have to have a reason to function? Where are you going to find it out there? If you do leave, what do you think you're going to do?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Why? Because it won't help your country?" Darien couldn't hide his disgust. "Fuck that. You're my partner, and my friend, and no one's gonna make you think you're worthless."

"Yeah? What do you want me to do? I've got zero options here."

"You can fight. You can go to the Agency and force them to accept you being back. You can rat on those prick Feds that did this to you and get their asses locked in a jail. You can find a new cause, something else to fight for."

Hobbes shook his head slowly. "It's just not that easy."

"Sure it is."

"Yeah? Why don't you tell me. What am I supposed to be fighting for?"

"Yourself! Your friends, your family!"

Hobbes smiled tightly. "My family's government. My brothers, my father."

"What about friends?"

"Sorry to disillusion you, but the work I do -- _did_ -- doesn't exactly lead to a lot of lasting friendships."

"What does that make me?"

"On, come on!" Hobbes blew up finally, turning to him squarely. "Stop with the buddy act! You and me were never put together to be friends. I was supposed to watch your ass while you worked wonders for the cause. That was it. That's all it was, so don't make it out to be more."

"Yeah? You're telling me I was just another partner? Just some freak babysitting job? So why did you sit outside my house all night when you got taken? Why go through that week with the Feds just to protect me? Why come back here and risk everything to help me? And _don't_ give me any bullshit about me being worth something to the government. You wouldn't have done all that if you hated me."

"I never said I hated you," Hobbes retorted. "This is ridiculous. What are we even talking about it for? It doesn't change anything."

"Yes, it does! I'm going to keep you here until you agree to fight for what you claim is so important to you, and get your damned job back and be my partner again."

"How can I do that?" Hobbes snapped back. "They don't want me, and I don't want them. Tell me they even bothered trying to figure out what happened when I vanished? Of course they didn't. They left me to rot, while their fellow agency was working me over with all their little tools."

Darien hesitated, his intuition budding. "But they're government, right? They're the only cause that matters."

Hobbes blinked, his gaze going inward. He fell silent. His head bowed and his gaze went to the pool of sheets around his waist. He took in the marks and bruises on his body, and shuddered faintly.

"See? Maybe there's something human in you after all." Darien kept his voice low. "Look at what they did to you. No one is worth this kind of loyalty, not after this. You said it yourself; all you wanted to do was help, and they tortured you for it. We're all supposedly supporting the same cause, but they're fighting each other over me, and hurting innocent people on the way. They aren't good guys, Bobby. They aren't working for their country, they're working for themselves, the same as everyone else in the world. I'm not so different from them, except I wouldn't hurt people to get what I wanted. Not the way they do."

Hobbes stayed quiet for a long time, taking in his words. At last he looked up again, his eyes mirroring shock. "You're right. God, I never thought…you're right. I don't…I can't believe it anymore. That cause, it's not…not good enough. Not after what they did to me, and what they were going to do to you." His tone was shocked. "Holy… I don't even believe in the cause anymore. Christ, Darien, what the hell am I gonna do now?"

Darien spoke quietly but firmly. "Find another cause."

"Like what?" Hobbes' tone held little interest, as if he didn't think there could be anything else.

"Like…" Darien shrugged. "Me."

Hobbes looked up in surprise. "You?"

"Yeah. I'm your partner. I'm this big help, and like you said, I'm totally clueless. Why not help me?"

Hobbes shook his head, but stayed silent. 

"Come on. I need you! You've saved my ass a few times already, and we haven't been partners all that long. You're my friend, I'm your friend. Maybe we should just…you know…fight for each other. Screw all that other crap. I have to do the work, because I'll go nuts without that Counteragent. You can help me." He paused, suddenly self-conscious. "I know it's not much, and I don't exactly compare to an entire country's government, but it's a start, right?"

Hobbes' face was almost wondering as he studied his old partner. "It's a moot point," he said quietly, not quite able to disguise the interest in his voice. "The Agency wouldn't let me come back."

Darien cursed under his breath and reached gingerly over the to table by the bed. He grabbed the phone and dialed seven numbers out of his memory. 

"What?" came the tired response.

"Hey, Boss, I know it's late, but--"

"Fawkes? What the hell are you doing, calling me at home at…four in the morning?"

"I just wanted to tell you something."

"Make it fast."

"Hobbes is back, and he's gonna be my partner again."

There was a pause. "I'm hoping I'm still half-asleep."

"You heard me right, sir. He's told me what happened while he was gone, and he's not gonna be any danger to the Agency."

"I should take his word for that?"

"No, you should take my word," Darien replied firmly. "Because if you don't, I'll go Quicksilver right now, and stay that way until that rage hits, and I'll get Hobbes here to drive me to the labs. I know she doesn't have any Counteragent ready, and I'll be able to do a hell of a lot of damage before you can get to me, especially if my partner's there watching my back. You understand what I'm saying?"

The reply was icy. "You are in no position to make demands. You realize that, don't you?"

"It's not unreasonable, what I'm asking. I want my partner back. I want your boy Kirkpatrick annoying someone else. That's it."

"Son of a…is Hobbes there now?"

"Uh huh."

"Get him on this phone."

Darien grinned and held the phone out to his slack-jawed partner. 

Hobbes snatched the device out of his hand. "You're insane, kid." He raised the phone. "Uh huh?" 

Darien couldn't help growing nervous over the next minute, when all Hobbes did was nod grimly into the phone and let loose a couple more uh huhs. Finally he hung up, and stared down at the phone for a minute.

"Well?" Darien couldn't help demanding.

"You've got a hell of a lot of pull, hotshot."

"Yes! See, I told you! All you have to do is fight!"

Hobbes didn't look happy. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So what's wrong?"

"I don't know if I can do this. I can't just shift all my beliefs around in one night."

Darien grinned. "Sure you can. And if it takes a little time, fine. As long as we're both back where we belong, it'll be all right."

Hobbes shook his head. "I should have just left town."

"Aw, come on. It won't be that bad."

"Maybe not. I hope you know what you've got yourself in for. It isn't smart making important decisions at four in the morning." A little of the humor was back in his voice.

It brought Darien's smile out even bigger. "Oh, I'm sure I'll live to regret it."

Hobbes returned the smile faintly. "Hell, I guess this means I can go back to my own apartment now."

Darien's happiness faded slightly at that. "Yeah, I guess so."

Hobbes laughed at his expression. "You don't have to seem so disappointed, kid. Tomorrow I'm sure you'll remember exactly why we used to hate each other."

"Maybe. But look, you're in no condition to leave. You need to get some sleep. You look like hell." He was serious. "You should let me babysit you for a little while."

"No thanks. I'll survive, don't worry." Hobbes scooted to the edge of the bed.

"I don't want you to go."

There was a pause, and Darien found himself regretting those words. 

But Hobbes didn't make a joke, and he didn't use that to pick another fight. He just glanced back at his partner. "You really want me to stay?"

"For tonight. Maybe…maybe a couple of days. If you want. We could help each other out." He glanced down at himself, unconsciously moving a hand to his throbbing injury, then took in Hobbes and his wounds.

Hobbes followed his gaze and laughed suddenly. "We're quite a pair, huh?"

Darien met his eyes, feeling a sudden strange affection for the man. "Yeah, we are."

Hobbes returned his gaze for a moment, then moved back and dropped on the bed. "Get out of here, kid. I'm tired."

Darien was practically beaming as he stood up carefully. "Bossy asshole."

"Get used to it again," Hobbes retorted mildly. 

Darien headed for the door with small, shuffling steps. At the doorway he glanced back. "Night, partner."

Hobbes answered with another of those rare, genuine smiles. "Night."

Darien moved into the living room, dropping down heavily on the couch.

He felt better, a lot better. Knowing Hobbes was going to stay around, knowing they were partners again. 

But it wasn't over yet, and he knew it. He had to get Hobbes to open up about the week he'd gone through at the hands of the FBI. The way Bobby closed up when he talked about it, along with the fact that he was obviously having nightmares, made Darien sure that he just couldn't go on this way.

Darien also had something else to occupy his mind as he sprawled out and let his eyes shut, feeling surprisingly sleepy: he had to figure out exactly why he was suddenly sure he would do anything to get Hobbes to grant him one of those uncomplicated, sincere smiles again.


End file.
